


ripple

by hyruling



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crowley Was Raphael Before Falling (Good Omens), Gen, M/M, Pining, Pre-Relationship, basically crowleys big feelings cause earthquakes, biblical inaccuracies probably, but only if u wanna interpret it that way its not explicit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-10-05 07:01:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20484785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hyruling/pseuds/hyruling
Summary: “Well. Until we meet again.”Aziraphale straightens his robe and makes to head towards Adam and Eve’s hut. He’s ten steps away when Crowley calls after him.“You know, you never told me your name.”





	ripple

The humans called it Pangea. They called it a supercontinent, they called it tectonic plates, and categorized each era with names like Mesozoic, and Jurassic, and Cenozoic. They said it started over three-hundred million years ago, they found fossils, and data to support their claims. And it’s not that they were wrong, exactly. It’s just that they remembered it the way Crowley wanted them to. They discovered what Crowley _wanted_ them to discover. 

He earned incredible commendations for it, of course. The scientific revolution was his masterpiece, his pièce de résistance. It was one of the few events in human history he claimed credit for that he actually earned, that resulted in many a harried visit from a certain angel, wings all a flutter because he was losing so many humans in the search for the truth, had so many Very Important People turn their backs on the church to find it. Crowley’s first ever gift to the angel was a copy of _De revolutionibus orbium coelestium_. Aziraphale had sent it back, with a prissy note about hubris tucked in the inside cover. 

In a technical sense, they weren’t wrong. The plates _did_ shift, the supercontinent _did_ break, and the oceans did form. Timing, though, was the key. The massive calculative error that no one would ever prove or disprove. 

The shifting started a few short years after the Beginning, after the garden and the first rainfall. 

\- - -

It’s raining again when he finds the angel. Lightning illuminates the grief on his face as he watches the figure off in the distance. Even from here, Crowley (then Crawly, though he’s loathe to claim it these days) can feel the heat of the mark branding the human’s flesh, can taste the evil in the air. The rain does nothing to cleanse the blood staining Cain’s skin. 

The angel doesn’t look at him as he approaches, too lost in his own misery. He doesn’t startle when Crowley appears, only stands a bit taller, as if he was expecting him. 

“I suppose your superiors are quite pleased with you,” Aziraphale says bitterly. His voice is steely and cold, so unlike the angel he remembers from the garden, the one who sheltered him from the downpour with his wing. He looks much the same now, oblivious to the rain that’s soaked him through, though of course today he keeps his wings obstinately to himself. 

“Hello to you too,” Crowley responds as he sidles next to him. Even in this weather, the warmth radiating from the celestial being next to him is overwhelming, makes him shiver beneath his dark robes. 

Aziraphale remains silent. Cain stumbles in the distance, blinded by the storm raging around them. Aziraphale gasps a soft “oh, dear,” and twitches his fingers. When the human stands again, he has a long staff to aid his painful eternal travels. Crowley considers teasing the angel for showing mercy to the world’s first murderer, then thinks better of it when Aziraphale sniffs.

“I wish I could look in on Eve,” Aziraphale sighs sadly. “To lose two of her sons in one day, oh how she must feel…” 

Crowley is quiet. The rain has soaked them both to the bone. His bare feet dig into the dirt, and the earth feels different now, tainted with Abel’s blood. 

“Their wives too,” Crowley offers. “Could probably use a spot of comfort.”  
  
“What do you know about it?” Aziraphale snaps, turning to look at him properly for the first time since he arrived. He looks angry, and tired, and incredibly sad. “This is _your_ doing, you don’t — you can’t claim to suddenly care about their families.” 

“It’s _not_ my doing, angel,” Crowley replies. It’s the first and only time he spits the nickname with such disdain. “My job was done when I gave Eve free will, all this was their own doing. He made his choice.”  
  
“You expect me to believe that?” Aziraphale says, and there are tears mingling with the rain on his face. Something shuts down in his human chest, the urge to shift into serpent form near unbearable. “I’ve been protecting that child since the garden, since she carried him into this world with _nothing_ — “  
  
“Nothing but your flaming sword,” Crowley interrupts. Aziraphale’s jaw clenches. “That’s what he used, isn’t it?”

“Stop it.” Aziraphale drags his hands down his face, anger and despair turning inward, and Crowley should be glad to see it. They’re enemies, after all, but he only feels his own spike in response. The time he spent in Heaven and Hell is unknowable, infinite and at the same time, over in a blink. All that time, and all that he’s observed on Her earth, and he still can’t figure out the bloody point of any of it. 

“Angel,” Crowley starts. He reaches a hand towards him, then pulls back and clenches it into a fist at his side. Lighting flashes, thunder cracking in the distance, and Aziraphale sobs. 

“Wallowing won’t do any good,” Crowley says tightly. “This is part of the plan, you did — you did what you could.”  
  
It feels like a lie. It’s probably a lie. And the road to Hell is paved with good intentions, but Crowley’s already been, got the postcard to prove it, so what’s one little white lie about the ineffability of it all? Distantly, he wonders if Cain thought the same thing when he looked God in the metaphorical face and tried to deceive Her. 

“But — the sword, I — I _gave_ them - “ Aziraphale stammers miserably.  
  
“Oh, come on. If it wasn’t a sword, it would have been a rock, or a drowning, or a strangling.” He pauses thoughtfully. “At least with a sword it was quicker, you did him a favor — “  
  
“Stop!” Aziraphale pleads. “Don’t say that. Please.”

They watch each other silently for a few moments. Cain’s figure dwindles until he’s no longer visible. Crowley swallows hard, weighing the words in his mind, knowing what it’ll cost and thinks,_ fuck it_. It doesn’t make sense, but he can’t bear the angel thinking he did this.

“I do… care, you know,” Crowley says at long last, avoiding the angel’s penetrating stare. He turns to cast his gaze towards one of the small huts nearby. It’s the only one with light inside, where Adam and Eve are learning what it means to grieve. “Eve and I spent a lot of time together in the Garden. She was so curious, so excited when she learned she was pregnant…” 

The rain lets up slightly, thunder rumbling low as the storm moves on. Slowly, one of the angel’s wings lifts, and Crowley blinks at him when it settles over his head. 

“I — oh Crawly, I’m sorry —“  
  
“Don’t,” Crowley says sharply. Aziraphale’s mouth shuts with a click. “If Downstairs heard what I just told you —“  
  
“Of course,” Aziraphale nods. “Right, I should — well, I think I am going to look in on Eve. Orders be damned.”  
  
Crowley’s eyes snap to the angel. His expression is hard and determined, and something warm blooms in his chest. “Yes, you should,” Crowley agrees thickly. 

Aziraphale hesitates. “You could… I mean, we could both… together?”  
  
There’s a loud crack, and the angel starts, wings flickering in alarm, but maintains his gaze. There’s hope, and a hint of empathy in his eyes, two concepts Crowley has long since been comfortable with. Something shifts in the very core below them, breaking apart and shaking the earth. Aziraphale doesn’t seem to notice; perhaps he assumes it’s from the storm, or God’s wrath, his eyes locked resolutely with Crowley’s. Crowley didn’t know it then, but the earth’s plates shifted for the first time that day. It would be thousands of years before he understood it, and longer still until he could control it. He’d created the stars, crafted planets from their dust; a little accidental continental shifting shouldn’t have been quite so surprising. 

“I — no, angel, that wouldn’t be — “ 

“Yes, you’re quite right,” Aziraphale agrees quickly. “I don’t know what I was thinking.” 

The rain ebbs until only a light mist hangs in the air, clinging to their eyelashes. Aziraphale smiles thinly at Crowley and removes his wing, shakes them dry. Warm drops of water land on Crowley’s cheeks, and he can’t stop his fingers from touching it. 

“Well. Until we meet again.”  
  
Aziraphale straightens his robe and makes to head towards Adam and Eve’s hut. He’s ten steps away when Crowley calls after him. 

“You know, you never told me your name.”

He knows his name, of course. He knows all the names of the angels that guarded Eden, had specifically asked Eve for Aziraphale’s when he heard him ecstatically describing what a pear tasted like to her. He’d hissed it to himself, practicing, taking care to control his tongue for when he would speak it out loud to the angel himself. He never got the chance. 

“Oh. Right, er… Aziraphale.”

It wasn’t yet customary to shake hands, or kiss cheeks when meeting someone, so Crowley does nothing. 

“Azzziraphale,” he repeats. _Damn_. 

“Yes.” Aziraphale smiles a bit brighter, and Crowley would swear the sun chose that moment to peek out from the storm clouds just to fuck with him. “Goodbye, Crawly.”

The earth shudders. “Goodbye, Aziraphale.” 

\- - -

**Author's Note:**

> this was written for a longer fic that i'm probably not going to finish, but i liked this bit. if i ever get back into to it it'll be a multi-chaptered fic, for now hope you enjoyed this <3
> 
> [tumblr xo](https://hyruling.tumblr.com/)


End file.
